Out of the several new year resolutions that I took this year, one was to burn out a few calories everyday at the gym. But to my utter dismay , I almost always end up compensating the loss of calories with an extra sandwich/pizza from the cafeteria post-workout.Not to mention the orange juice taken to wash it all down !
Well, this friday evening , I was a bit late to come out from the gym (more to do with the crowd over there than my love for push-ups) and hence the cafeteria guy had already shut shop and gone home. As I came out cursing the chap, I saw an unusual sight at the reception. A 70 something old man was arguing with the security guy about something. As I went nearer I could sense that the old man, who was almost in rags wanted to deliver the night's food (packed in a triple decker tiffin-carrier) to some employee. Now, for some strange reason which flies above my head , my company prefers Hindi speaking security guards in a predominantly Tamil speaking Chennai. So naturally there arouse the need of a language translator between the old man and the security wala.
Now , this old man was wearing a dhoti and a white shirt and since I was approaching him from behind, I could see that his shirt was torn to a good degree. I guessed that some biggie wanted his night's food to be delivered at office and his loving wife sent it through their servant ,not knowing about the access restrictions at Indian IT companies.
Now, tiffin carriers & people who carry them have always been subject of my envy.Everyday when I sit and struggle to gulp down the cafeteria food , I see all these lucky souls gulping down wifey-made dishes ,naturally topped up with tons of love. Ya, I do know that my gf would also love to cook for me and send me 8-10 decker carriers everyday,but that utopian situation is still at least a good couple of years away !
So avoid did I this old man and rushed to the door to make an exit to the hotel outside to satisfy my hunger pangs. As I stopped to swipe my access card , I heard ,believe me ,what was next only to Queen's English ... 'Sir ,can you help me out with this man...in delivering this parcel'
Flummoxed was I cos this came from the same old man whom I had dismissed as a servant just minutes ago !
I gathered my wits around and still dumb stricken , took the small chit from the old man's hand . It had a poorly scribbled phone number which wasn't visible. I asked whom the parcel was for ? I got an answer which just made me stand still for some time.
'My son...G K Venkat ..first floor!' I couldn't avoid noticing the pride & joy in his eyes and the raised pitch when he said 'My son'.
I bet the old man did a reasonably good job in the prime of his life cos he spoke particularly well when compared to my American accented peers at work.He had an aura of charm around him now that I was closely observing him . And yes, courtesy and well mannered were his gestures and behavior.
I made sure that the security guy got in touch with someone on the first floor and by that time one more associate joined in for help. Sensing that the old man would get his parcel delivered, I walked out... I don't really know what an IT worker's Himalayan constraints were in making sure that his parents dressed respectfully.But whatever they may be, i just hope he solves them soon. We for sure don't need a young & vibrant India built on tears of our senior citizens .
p.s : This is for the smarty boys who work with me. Don't bother digging out GK Venkat, I have changed names !
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